So Friday was International Women’s Day – and Sunday Mother’s Day. Hurrah for women!

(I realise I’ve rather missed the boat for both, but sometimes having time to sit down and write topical poetry doesn’t quite happen, alas.)

Anyway – this week’s piece is inspired by an exhibition at Newcastle’s Discover Museum, which presents portraits of eminent women scientists. Thinking about the act of portraiture and its power, I wrote a piece which – as the title of the post suggests – is very archaic advice for the artist on how to present a lady-scientist.

And yes, that’s why I’ve used that irritating little -hyphen- in there, for these are not just ‘scientists’, they are ‘lady-scientists’. The hyphen attaches them to their gender and all its holographic-accoutrements throughout the poem and, sadly, still throughout some of the scientific world. So the poem’s about the surface notion/image (much like a portrait) of women and women-in-science which used to abound but which is hopefully – slowly – being eroded.

I used the odd word ‘unbecoming’ as the alternative title to convey the idea that a woman’s work (indeed, anyone depicted in a portrait) can be curiously undermined, undone, by how they are presented. What does it mean: ‘unbecoming’? Un-becoming what? Not-becoming who? It is only ever used in relation to women, isn’t it?

My dear friend Emma – another amazing woman – is writing a blog post every day during women’s history month to celebrate women’s achievements in many different fields (including some ‘Lady-scientists’). You should check them out: there are many amazing women to read and learn about there.

And, as it was Mother’s Day on Sunday, I’m dedicating my very tongue-in-cheek poem (I italicise for extra emphasis) to my Mum. A memory came back to me which was part of the thinking behind this: we once went to buy a family car and visited a second-hand showroom.

The salesman (yes, I know Used Car Salesmen are not usually the most progressive of beings) attempted to sell Mum a car solely on the merit of the fact that it had very shiny rings at the front.As in, “Well madam, if it’s you that’ll be driving it, have you seen these bright, shiny rings at the front? Like the ones all little girls crave to receive when being proposed to by Prince Charming? Hmm? Shiny shiny, madam?”

No, he didn’t really say that: but his insistence that the cosmetic, surface element of the car was what she’d be interested in was quite enough. We didn’t stay long and certainly didn’t buy from there. So the poem’s in his voice, but projected from last century – and dedicated to women who, like my Mum, do not suffer such fools gladly (or, indeed, at all).

I think it took a slight lead from a great poem by Sylvia Plath called ‘The Applicant’ – which uses direct address and questioning to the reader, implicating them (you decide in what – I think it’s marriage, or some sinister pact). You can hear her read it – and be chilled and delighted – here.